


Girl in the Metric T-Shirt

by brandymallory



Series: Shitty Boyfriends [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drugs, F/F, First Person, Marco is more or less along for the ride, Side - Ace Springles, Side - Marco/Jean, Text Messages, band au, booze, punkjean, snapback wearing eren, tragic backstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandymallory/pseuds/brandymallory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir really didn't think being in a band would actually get her chicks. Though, the results are still unproven at this point. </p><p>YmirKrista tacky band AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl in the Metric T-Shirt

Let’s start with saying; I’m a super cool person. The coolest person you will ever meet in fact, I am the fucking shit. I make freckles insanely attractive, look really hot in my dark jeans and tank top and am smooth as silk.

Yeah fucking right.

“Okay horse face, you’re doing the talking tonight,” I stated as I walked (well, ran) into the dressing room, a crumpled up t-shirt in my hand, fleeing the crowded bar scene outside it. Normally, I’m perfectly fine being in crowded spaces, hell I’m more than fine in bars, I’ve been in bars ever since I could reasonably pass as legal.

“Huh?” Jean looked up from the couch where he was currently fiddling around with his guitar, hair gelled up, eyeliner on and ears filled with piercings. Eren was often teasing him about ‘trying to hard’, and I often agreed.

“To the audience, between songs,” I was pacing now, something Jean knew from past experience was never a good sign, “You’re lead vocals, you can do it.”

“Technically we’re both lead vocals,” Jean muttered as he put down his guitar to stand up and stretch out before brushing off his jeans and straightening his t-shirt, “And you always do the intro because you claim I am too much of an asshole.”

“And she’s fucking right,” Eren noted as he enters the door I left open, the world’s tackiest snapback on his head, pair of drum sticks in his hand, clad in jeans and a muscle shirt (he’s such a tool). Marco trails along behind him, carrying enough water bottles to quench an army. Which is good, I may need them when I start hyperventilating in a minute.

“Well today I feel generous in sharing this extremely important task with my band mates in hopes that they too can become popular like me,” I was grasping at strings and I knew it as I grabbed a water bottle from Marco before his eyeliner wearing boyfriend stepped over to help him.

“Is this cause the blonde girl is here?” the freckled boy asked as Jean took half the bottles out of his arms, “Cause I saw her chatting with you by the bar.”

Shit. A witness. I’ll have to kill him.

“OH! You actually talked to her this time!” Jean exclaimed as he stocked the fridge, “Instead of blushing and running away like you normally do?”

“That was one time!” I yelled, dramatically collapsing on the couch beside Eren, pulling at his shirt, “Eren you do it.”

“I’m the drummer, which would be dumber than Jean doing it, make Marco.”

Marco snorted as he checked himself over in the mirror, nervously smoothing out his navy dress shirt, “Yeah cause that’s a way better idea.”

“You’ve got like five minutes guys,” Armin stated as he walked in, staring at his cell phone (a magic device that somehow contained all the business info and planning for the band), “Everyone ready?”

“Ymir is freaking out because that girl she has a crush on is here,” Eren said as he stood up, quickly moving out of my swing radius.

“Well,” the blond boy didn’t look up from his phone, fingers no doubt tweeting something about the band about to go on, “If it makes you feel better I don’t care as long as you preform. I’m pretty sure there are label guys here tonight.”

“You say that literally every single gig, Armin,” Jean grunted, ponding a bottle of water while Marco gave him a small hug from behind (an important pre-stage tradition and a very long story), “Let’s just go play.”

“No!” I wined as the others began to make their way towards the bars small stage, dragging myself off the couch, “I don’t wanna.”

“Ymir,” the blond boy looked up from his phone to stare me in the eyes, fuck was he creepy when he wanted to be, “Do you want that new amp or should I take it off the budget?”

With a moan I grabbed my guitar, placing the t-shirt I’d been clinging to for the last five minutes on the case and made my way out the door, “I hate you Arlert.” (I really didn’t, that kid keeps us out of debit)

 

The bar was actually pretty packed for a Thursday, but I guess a live band (a local and slowly getting more and more popular band) tended to bring people out. I felt my anxieties melt away as we set up, Eren sitting comfortably behind his drum set and Marco bouncing on his heels as he prepped himself up to play base. Something about the stage always calmed me at this point.

Jean adjusted his mic stand and gave me a sidelong glance, “Better?”

“Shut up nerd.”

He smirked, “I take that as a yes.”

I was glad the bright stage lights that had just been flipped on blinded me from to the audience so I didn’t have to look at a certain goddess. I looked back at the boys as they gave her quick nods, before leaning closer to the mic

“Welcome to Hanji’s,” I was yelling like normal, “We’re Shitty Boyfriends and unfortunately you have to listen to us for most of the night! Hit it losers!”

Eren hit his sticks together to count us in and we launched into our first song of the night. 

 

I guess I should back up a little and explain a few things. Five years ago, when we were still in high school and full of hopes and dreams, Jean came up with a horrible idea of starting a band. And after begging all of his friends he ended up with Marco (who agreed to learn base even though the most he’d ever played for a musical instrument was a recorder), Eren (who’s dad had bought him a drum set after his mother passed away in some effort to give him some way to take his anger out on something that wasn’t Jean’s face) and me (total legit rock star who was tricked with the promise of cash).

After many arguments about who would be lead singer, Eren screamed at us that we ‘should both just fucking sing our shitty music alright?’ and we settled into the weird four person band we are today. We had a insanely hard start where pretty much everyone was placing bets on how long it would be until we quit (Connie bet a hundred fucking dollars on two weeks by the way), and I’ll admit, we were a fucking mess for the first while, but at some point everything just clicked.

There may or may not have been a couple heart to heart talks between various members (including one where me and Jean came out to each other and totally did not cry in his stupid mustang at the county fair) which helped with this change, but really the turning point was probably when Jean and Marco finally started dating and we didn’t have to deal with the insane unresolved sexual tension between them at practice.

But really, that’s a whole different story I don’t feel like going into.

Around year three we decided to actually get serious about this shit and bribed Armin into being our manager, which is probably the best idea that’s ever come out of Eren Yeager’s mouth because that manipulative bastard has spent the last two years taking us from a basement loser band to popular local band that actually gets gigs on a regular basis. Hell, we even have a fan base and our music kind of sells on iTunes.

 

Now, you’re probably thinking, ‘Holy fuck Ymir, I don’t want this entire stupid back story, I just want to know who this cute blonde girl is!’ Well I’m getting there, calm your fucking tits.

About three months ago she started showing up at our shows, a literal goddess in the flesh with flowing bright blonde hair, the most insane aqua eyes and most importantly, the ability to rock out like a champ in band t-shirt and mini shirt. She was, to put it truthfully, the very definition of punk rock princess and I’m pretty sure I was in love from the first glimpse of her I saw.

And it’s so far been pretty downhill from there.  I’ve spoken (and I use that term loosely) to her exactly three times.

Time number one wasn’t even at one of our shows, it was on a Tuesday night when we were at a house party hosted by a friend of a friend of a friend. I was, in all my glory, drunk on cheap beer and picking on Eren for wearing that stupid hat of his (no clue where Marco and Jean where but I’m 100% sure it involved kissing), when she magically appeared at my side. The conversation went as follows:

Goddess: “Hey! Aren’t you guys from Shitty Boyfriends?”

Eren: “Yeah, I’m Eren and this is Ymir.”

Goddess: “I love your music! The lyrics are always so relatable.”

Eren: “Thanks! Ymir does most of the lyric writing; I just hit shit with sticks.”

Goddess: “Really?”

At this point the goddess turned to face me.

Goddess: “Did you write Broken Walls? It’s such a beautiful song.”

Me: “You’re a beautiful song.”

That’s right, I said that out loud. Out fucking loud, to her face, one minute after I meet her and hadn’t even learned her name. And when I realised I had said it out loud, I promptly turned around and ran for the bathroom, because I was drunk, and suddenly had to throw up.

Eren informs me she just kind of stared after me confused before some of her friends wandered by and dragged her away.

 

Time two was equally embarrassing, but without the wonderful excuse that is being drunk.

This time we had actually just finished a set and I had gone to check on how Mikasa was doing at the merch table. Mika, by the way, pretty much designs all the bands everything to the point she is on payroll.

“Hey Ymir!” she was suddenly beside me again and her voice was like the sound of angels sighing, and I realise how incredibly tacky that sounds but it’s the truth, “Great show tonight.”

I blushed, stumbling over my words to get out a muttered ‘thank you’ before running in the opposite direction like the chicken I am.

 

Which brings us to approximately twenty minutes ago and time number three.

This time, I actually see her instead of her popping out of know where, sitting at the bar and chatting with the ever grumpy bartender that is Levi. I’m on my way to get my traditional shot of Malibu (fuck off it tastes good) before the gig starts and she is conveniently beside the only open spot at the bar.

I was not mentally prepared for this, not at all. Several alarms were going off in my head telling me to back away and escape further embarrassment, but they were all ignored.

I’m a sucker for punishment, I really am.

“Hey,” I try to focus on not acting like a complete idiot as I slide in beside her, nodding to Levi as he reaches for the Malibu bottle and a shot glass, “How goes things?”

“Ymir!” For once I surprised her and I chuckle a bit at her little jump, “Great actually.”

Her eyes goddamn sparkle and I just kind of stare into them for longer than probably necessary before Levi all but slams a shot glass down in front of me.

“That’s great,” Wonderful reply there Ymir, dialogue of the year. I grab the shot and bring it to my lips, tipping it half into my mouth before promptly spitting out what was defiantly not Malibu, “What the fuck Levi? You know I hate Sambuca!”

“Stop crappily flirting at my bar than.”

In my rage, I may have missed the fact I had completely just spit liquor all over the shirt of the goddess until she reached by me to grab tissues.   

“Oh shit! Fuck,” I grabbed the towel out of Levi’s hand as he smirked at me, “I’m sorry fucking sorry.”

I made an attempt to clean her shirt but the horrible smell of anise and sticky feeling was not leaving it, so she did what normal people do, took it off.

Before you freak (like I was) she had a tank top under it.

“It’s really okay Ymir, don’t worry about it.”

I was worrying about it, “You don’t even have a bag to put it in, let me at least hold it back stage so it doesn’t get lost.” But somehow I managed to get that wonderful line out of my mouth.

“Really?” Her face lit up again as she handed it over, “That would be great! I’ll come grab it after the show then!”

“Sounds great!” I managed to get out as she excused herself to go rejoin her friends, leaning against the bar again in disbelief.

Levi slid me another shot, “You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you, you short bastard,” I knocked back the Malibu, finally removing the Sambuca taste from my mouth.

 

Which leads us back to the beginning of our story, and my current place on the stage, finishing the last song on our set (which had lasted twenty minutes longer than planned due to a couple encores) which was an angry cover of MSI’s ‘Shut Me Up’. That is, if you can somehow make that song angrier (we do, it’s impressive how much pure angry yelling power the four of us have actually).

“Thank you for listening!” I yelled into the mic, my voice almost gone, “Buy our shit on Itunes so we don’t starve to death!”

The stage lights went off around us and I felt a slap on my back from Jean as I turned off my mic and started unhooking my equipment (we were not at the point for full time stage hands yet).

This was probably my favorite part of preforming, this weird moment when you can still hear the crowd and the after imagine of the lights is still floating in your eyes. When everything around you is a blur and all you can think about is the fact you made it through the show without puking and that is such a positive thing.

Of course, my hazy after show high is cut short by a short haired blond boy who is poking me in the side.

“Ymir, are you even listening?”

“Nope, not at all boss man.”

Armin sighed (nothing new when it comes to our interactions) rubbing his forehead, “I was saying, some girl stopped by backstage to leave you a message,” he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, “Said something about a t-shirt and you spitting all over her.”

“Yeah, shut up,” I grabbed the paper out of his hand, unfolding it in a hurry and staring at the neat cursive that lay down before me.

_Ymir,_

_Sorry I missed you, I had to leave early before I got in trouble._

_I’ll just have to get my shirt back another time I guess!_

_Historia_

_PS: 1-555-867-5309 Call me <3_

“Wow she left her number and everything,” Eren voice came from behind me as he read over my shoulder, “Though what kind of stupid name is Historia?”

I elbowed him. Hard.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this massive idea for a 4 Part band AU, and decided it would best start with Ymir. 
> 
> I've never wrote Ymir before, I really don't think I'm writing her very well, perhaps more of a fandom influenced view on Ymir than a canon one (aka: More giant nervous trashbaby than probably needed) but I think it would be funny for band AU Ymir to be a bit less confident in herself than canon Ymir. Circumstances of life and what not. 
> 
> I'm also not used to writing in first person, but would like to get more practice on it, so I'm trying. 
> 
> I figure Shitty Boyfriends would be like, a mix of Paramore and Everclear. I made them a fake playlist for this chapter cause I like making up song titles:
> 
> -Break Everything (original)  
> -Pretending (original)  
> -Government Hooker (Lady Gaga Cover)  
> -Fuck everything I'm tired of breathing (original)  
> -Miss Murder (AFI Cover)  
> -Broken Walls (original)
> 
> encore:  
> -How to be a Shitty Boyfriend  
> -Shut Me Up (MSI Cover)


End file.
